Page 92 of Seeds of Christmas
“And I’ve been thinking. Maybe—maybe after I finish my degree, I don’t go to grad school. Maybe I do what you did. Become a firefighter. Or EMT. Or something where I canactually—where I can help people like that.”
I hold my breath, waiting for disappointment. For “but you’re so close to finishing.” For “don’t waste your degree.”
“Carter.” My dad’s voice is rough with emotion. “Son, I would be very proud if you went down that path. So incredibly proud.”
My eyes burn. “Really?”
“Really. But you finish college first. You hear me? You finish what you started. Get that degree. Then—then you do whatever calls to you. And if it’s firefighting, I’ll be there at your graduation from the academy, front row.”
“I promise. I’ll finish.” Relief floods through me. “Dad?—”
“And Carter? This work—what we do—it’s about doing the hard thing. For strangers, for family, for the people we love. Even when it’s scary. Especially when it’s scary.”
“I know.”
“So what are you going to do now?”
I look at the wall separating my room from the rest of the motel. Somewhere out there, Rhi is sitting alone, probably crying, probably scared, probably convinced she’s ruined everything.
And I’m sitting here feeling sorry for myself instead of fighting for her.
Instead of showing up.
“I’m going to fix it,” I say.
“That’s my boy.”
“Thanks, Dad. For everything. For the rescue advice, for this, for?—”
“I love you, Carter. Don’t forget that.”
“I love you too.”
That’s the first time we’ve said that to each other in over a year. Maybe we were both so scared of being close again, because we know how much it hurts when you lose someone.
After I hang up, I sit on the edge of the bed and think about what I’m about to do.
I could stay here.
Or I could show up.
I grab my room key and head out.
19
RHIANNON
I’m sitting on the motel bed with my laptop open, trying to type up observations from the last data collection.
Trying being the key word.
I’ve been staring at the same incomplete sentence for twenty minutes.
Thermal gradient measurements at Site Five showed consistent fluctuation patterns, indicating...
Indicating what? I don’t remember. Can’t focus. Can’t think about anything except the fact that Carter is seventeen doors away and might as well be on another planet.
I delete the sentence and start over.
